by Annie Dyer
I sat down at the bar and was passed my usual without any comment from the bartender. There was no need to hand cash over; like a few of the locals I had a tab I settled once a week and every week since I’d lived here it got a little smaller. And every week I’d painted a little more.
“Hey, long-haired lover!”
Catrin’s louder than expected-from-someone-so-short yell came from the open doors. I turned round, hoping she wouldn’t yell anything else.
“We’re all outside. Come join us!”
It was easier just to go rather than put up any resistance and I hoped Anya would be out there too. Maybe last night had scared her, or she hadn’t felt what I did. I was so fucked up I could’ve imagined anything.
I paused as I went out onto the decking: she was standing at the back, leaning against the rails with a drink in her hand and wearing a dress, her hair down and loose, blowing in the breeze.
Taking out my phone to capture her on screen was not an option, so instead I stared, not caring if anyone noticed. I was beyond caring about what anyone else thought, had been for some time.
As long as she was good with it.
I saw her smile, a shy slight smile that didn’t fill her face. She was hesitant, unsure. The sea rolled in behind her, waves gentle tonight and the sky was yellow and hazy, the promise of a sea fret tomorrow morning.
I didn’t head to her, knowing what that would tell everyone, and I knew Michael was there with his girlfriend of the week and all her friends. Instead I went to the tall table around which everyone was standing and put my drink down, my eyes still on her.
She was watching me, constantly trying to glance away when I caught her which made me smile more. Someone said my name and I answered, but I had no real idea what I was saying. My conversation was with Anya’s eyes.
Music started from the bar, filtering outside. Catrin got a little louder, Anders kept hold of her a little more. She had form for knocking things over when she was tipsy, and given her size, it didn’t take too much to make her tipsy.
Anya laughed at her friend, at Polly. She talked to her brother and the other people who surrounded us and she kept on glancing at me. Smiling.
“Are you just going to perv on her all night or are you going to go over there and speak to her.” Catrin said.
She had broken free of her boyfriend’s arm and she now wrapped both her small arms around my waist. Clearly we were in the touchy-feely stage of her being drunk.
“I didn’t want to force her to have to talk to me.” Where that gem came from I had no fucking clue. Confidence with women wasn’t something I’d ever lacked.
A finger poked my lower back. “Don’t be a dumb shit. You keep looking at each other. You managed to talk plenty to each other last night so if you haven’t got anything left to say why don’t you just kiss her.” Her words were slurred.
Anders headed over and prised her hands off my waist. He wasn’t jealous, that was clear enough, but he had a very good idea when Cat needed reining in.
“Stop harassing people, Catrin.” He pulled her into his arms.
“Will you get me another drink?”
“Yes. Happily. One of those coffees you like.”
Her eyes widened up at him. I stifled a laugh because whatever she was about to ask for, he’d be struggling to say no to.
“With whisky?”
“No, Catrin. With coffee. Else you’re going to have a thick head tomorrow and I’ll be spending the day nursing your hangover.” He grasped both of her hands in his.
I’d never had a relationship get to the stage of looking after a lover. Nothing had lasted much beyond six months; either them or I got bored. I tended to err towards women who were invested in their careers and friends, with a long-haired architect not being their long term goal.
“Coffee. Then a cocktail?” She looked at him hopefully, freeing her hands then tucking them into the back pockets of his jeans.
“Coffee, some snacks, then a cocktail.”
“Then lots of sex.”
“If you don’t fall asleep first.”
I looked over at Anya. She had been watching Cat too, shaking her head at her friend’s drunken negotiation skills. She saw me looking and smiled.
I smiled back and bit my lips, looking up to the sky. This wasn’t me. If Ryan could see me now he’d be ripping me a new one. He’d be telling me to get over to her, ask her questions, buy her a drink, offer dinner.
She leaned back against the fence, the breeze catching her hair again, making her dress flutter. This time I headed straight to her.
“How did you sleep after last night?” Lame. I was so lame.
“Well. Better than in ages. You?”
“Good.”
The quiet hung elephant-sized between us.
I laughed, she joined in. “I’m sorry if I kept staring at you.”
“I was staring back.”
“I know. That made me feel less sorry.”
Her smile was warm and genuine. “I didn’t know you painted.”
“Kind of. I like art. And houses. That was how I ended up being an architect.” I put my hands in my pockets so I didn’t touch her. Right now, I wanted to hold her, to wrap my arms around her like Anders was with Catrin. I wanted to kiss her neck and trail fingers over her stomach across the thin material of her dress. “I’m meeting a new client on the island on Monday.” He’d gotten back to me earlier, confirming he was still interested.
“That’s good. You could get loads of work here. There are always people looking to move here and renovate the older properties. Barn conversions, the old school near Benllech.” Her eyes flicked over my face. “Is this the first project you’ve looked at since the crash?”
I nodded. “The first. Maybe the last. It’s going to feel weird doing this without Ryan. He was the person I bounced ideas off. Even through uni.”
I felt fingers slip under my T-shirt onto my back, pressing lightly on my skin. “I can show you my paintings.” My grin was wicked and I remembered how to give it. There was one painting I wouldn’t show, not yet. Not ever.
She doubled over laughing. “That is such a line, Casanova.”
“Too much too soon?”
She gave a little shrug. “Maybe buy me a drink first.”
We moved back inside once the evening became cooler. The bar was full, a Saturday night on the island just before schools broke out meant an older crowd was here, making the most of child-free evenings. I’d been here through May, and the holidays then, when everywhere was overrun with kids running wild.
The atmosphere was easy and almost euphoric, the good weather effecting everyone’s mood. Various couples had disappeared; Michael and his girl of the month had crept off and then returned. Catrin and Anders had been deep in conversation, lost to the crowd around them. Everyone else was either paired off, or had paired off, including Jim, one of the older fishermen who seemed to have found himself in the company of a woman who looked happy to be his catch of the day.
That left Anya with me. We talked, drank, listened to the music. I held her in front of me when the bar got busy, her ass against my front, my hand on her stomach, praying that if she noticed how hard my cock was she’d be impressed rather than horrified.
Having her in my arms felt good. The women I’d slept with since being on the island had been fleeting. I hadn’t held them like this, hadn’t been like this with them in public. And I hadn’t been with anyone who lived on the island.
Holding her like this meant that I wasn’t going to be a bastard and ghost her, or fuck her and not see her again. That wasn’t going to happen. Although my intentions were anything but pure.
The crowd started to thin out as the music stopped and last orders were called. Catrin and Anders left without saying goodbye, still deep in conversation. I found a bar stool and sat on it, pulling Anya onto my knee.
She sipped at her drink, her head just under my chin so I could smell her hair and wonder what it would be like a
cross my pillows. The rain had started, smacking against the windows. A summer storm to clear the air.
“Everyone’s pretty much gone.” She put her glass down on the bar.
“Pretty much.” I still held her.
“It’s raining outside.” She turned her head to look at me. “Your place is closer than mine.”
I didn’t actually think it was. But it was more private. I could make her scream without anyone overhearing.
“You want to see my paintings now?”
Her hand flattened against my chest. “If you still want to show me them.”
“You didn’t seem too interested before.” I pushed one hand up the skirt of her dress, feeling the top of her ass.
“Maybe I was trying to play hard to get.”
“I’m not sure I want to show my paintings to someone who plays games.”
Her eyes had darkened and I wondered if she was wet. I wondered if I could actually make it back to the barn without fucking her in a field.
“I like playing games.”
She shifted, now basically straddling me on the bar stool. I cupped her ass with both my hands, pulling her closer so she had no doubt as to how hard she’d made me.
“I do too. And I want to play games with you.”
The kiss when it happened was different that last night. It was slower, deeper. The sweetness that had been there yesterday was now gone, replaced with demand and desire. It felt dark; deep shades of red would be how I painted it. She tasted of the fruit punch she’d drank and her, the same flavour I’d kept on my tongue all day. I wanted to know how she tasted elsewhere, and then I wanted to sink deep inside her, over and over again and lose whatever hurt I had and take her pain away at the same time.
“You two need to get a room before I need a different type of license.”
I pulled her into my chest as the kiss ended. The landlord stood behind me, half glaring, half smiling.
“Go home. The rain’s eased off.”
We were pretty much the only ones left. I helped her off the stool and took her hand. “I can still just walk you home. Take you out tomorrow for dinner.” An out; always give an out.
“Gabe.” She paused as we got outside, the previously calm sea now wicked in the rain that hammered on us. “I want you to take me to yours and fuck me till I can’t walk. Then we can talk about dinner tomorrow.”
We were already soaked. Rushing seemed pointless and I didn’t want to lose any time by rushing. Tomorrow she might change her mind about me; I might push her away, still unable to keep anyone close.
I kissed her again, trying to keep it from becoming too intense but I felt her whimper into my mouth, felt her nipples hard against my chest. I moved us to the side of the bar, pushing her against the wall where there was some shelter. I had about three minutes before someone came out.
“Are you wet?”
She nodded, her lips plump and swollen.
I moved a hand between her legs and slid two fingers around her knickers. She was soaked. My fingers pushed into her heat and wetness and she spread her legs. In out.; in out. I felt her breath hitch with the rhythm of my hand. I nudged the small rise inside her that I found easily and started to press down on her clit with the heel of my hand. She shuddered, her eyes on mine, not leaving them.
I didn’t know how long it was since she’d last had someone inside her, or even hold her. I didn’t know how long it was since I’d last had someone make me feel this alive, enough to have them up against the side of the wall in the heavy summer rain.
“I’m nearly there.”
Her words were barely there, breath hitched, little gasps that made my cock feel like it was about to burst.
She let out a low moan as she came, her cunt contracting around my fingers, hips bucking. I pushed my mouth to her, not to quieten her because I didn’t give a fuck who heard, but because I didn’t want the distance between us when her orgasm subsided. I wanted to be there, wanting more, needed to be close.
Small hands went to my jeans, clever fingers undoing the zipper and button. My fingers were still inside her, slowly pumping, feeling her pussy flutter.
“Here.” She pulled her lips from mine. “I want you inside me.”
I’d wanted to take her home. I still did. Needed her underneath me, wanted to see all of her like a banquet only I was going to feast from. But I was a fucking weak male.
“I need to get a condom.” She had my jeans round my ankles, butt and cock exposed in the rain. Her leg was angling around my hip, itching her centre to me. I needed to lift her to fuck her against the wall here.
“You don’t need a condom. Unless you need one.”
My brain stopped processing anything at that point. I withdrew my fingers, dripping with her juices and lifted her, pulling her knickers away. She wouldn’t need them. Her legs started to wrap round me, her back against the rough rendering of the bar building. We were going to get caught but I wasn’t sure I cared any more. Base need had taken over.
Anya held my cock, guiding it into her and I tried not to slam home, knowing that she was going to need time to adjust. She was tight and I was thick and long and I really didn’t want to hurt her.
She whimpered as I entered her, pausing partly to give her time and to try to hold off coming too soon. She clamped tight around me, heat and wetness nearly making me lose anything left of my mind.
Her legs told me to move as she tried to tease me to enter her further. I heard the sea, the rhythm pound and pulse and my hips began to match it, her calls being lost in the sound of the pouring rain. One of her hands gripped my shoulder, the other in my hair, pulling as I fucked her.
She contracted around me, her fingers digging in me harder.
“You going to come for me?” I didn’t know how I said the words because any blood I had wasn’t in my brain.
“Yes.”
“And again when we get home. You going to let me fuck you properly?”
She nodded, her legs tightening. “However you want.”
Images of how I wanted flickered through. “Jesus, Anya.” I thrust hard, once, twice, three times more, heard her scream and then buck as she came.
I exploded inside her, pouring into her pussy and slamming her into the wall. I kissed her as we slowed down, shielding her body against mine from the rain or anyone who happened to be nearby. I should’ve taken her home first, been more tender, treated her better than a fuck against the wall, but I’d needed this.
And I think she had too.
“You okay?”
Her hands cupped my face, eyes drowsy with sex and orgasms. “I forgot how it could be. I don’t know when…”
I kissed her again, sliding my cock out of her, cupping a breast, squeezing her nipple through her top and bra.
“I’m going to take you home and do it properly. Then wake up with you in my bed and make you come again. Maybe several times. So you can’t walk tomorrow.” Her skin was creamy and soft, smooth under my hands. The five minutes it would take us to walk home seemed far too much.
“Maybe it’ll be you who gets fucked into oblivion.”
I nudged her nose with mine. “Has this just become a competition?”
“Maybe one with no loser.”
We walked across the field towards my house that looked empty and dark without the moonlight. I should’ve felt embarrassed about where I was taking her: to a mattress in a barn with no running water or facilities that she’d be used to, but I knew she wouldn’t care. They were only things and both of us knew that things didn’t always matter. Before the crash, I’d lived in a period property that I’d renovated the hell out of, adding modernist features and environmental details. The spec was the highest it could be and the women I took back spent as much time admiring the quality of the finish as they did me, until they saw my cock.
“I’m wet with more than just the rain.” She paused, her hand in mine, as we got to the driveway.
I grinned, knowing exactly what she meant.
“Good. Get inside and I’ll dry some parts off and get you wetter elsewhere.”
“I don’t know if it’s possible.”
I flicked the lights on as we entered the barn, the space warm and dry. My paintings were lined up along one wall, the one of her half hidden by another. Facing her, I dropped down to my knees and started to lift up her dress, her pussy bare and glistening with our juices. I stood, pulling her dress over her head. She undid her bra and let it drop to the floor, leaving her naked.
“I feel like I should tell you to paint me. Like one of your French girls.”
Her words were loud against the quiet out here.
“You’re more beautiful than anyone or anything.” I meant it. I was hard again, ready to be back inside her, but we’d already rushed this once. I kissed her collar bone, softly and looked back up at her.
Her eyes were pooled with want and need, I recognized it as I knew it was held in my own. Small hands pulled up my T-shirt. I helped, throwing it to the floor and then I undid my jeans, and kicked off my trainers.
“I’ve never brought a woman back here before.” I needed to tell her. Needed to try to make her feel special.
“I’ve never had sex at the side of a bar before.”
I looked, taking in every inch of her.
“I don’t go to a gym. And I eat cake.”
“You could eat more if you wanted and still be fucking beautiful.”
She went to cover her breasts. I caught her hands and brought them down to my cock, swollen and large. “No. Don’t. This is how you’ve made me. I’m desperate to come in you again.”
I could see that the side of her leg was wet, probably leaking from her. Her legs parted, possibly subconsciously.
“My mattress is up on the mezzanine.”
“You’re going to watch my ass as I climb up those steps.”
“Baby, my fingers are going to be in that ass as you climb up.”
